The Haunting
by conception.creation
Summary: A rebel turned demon hunter treks across the world in pursuit of escaped hybrids. Now she must track down a spirit with a mysterious agenda, and nothing is as it seems.


Disclaimer: The Bartimaeus Trilogy is the Property of Jonathan Stroud.

A/N:_ Hey guys! I'm here with another story – but don't fear for Restless Spirit, this is just a one-shot. However, it's extremely long, which I apologize for._

_This story is a gift for Nari_nick. Originally I wanted to give her something as a thank you for the loads of stunning artwork she's done for my story (check out the links in my profile!), but in fact it's a bit more than that. Excuse me while I get all sentimental here…_

_Nari, thank you so much for your friendship. I never really expected to get to know anyone when I started writing here… I mean it's the internet, and we're all anonymous, right? But ever since I first met you a year and a half ago, I've really enjoyed knowing you. You're a great author, amazing artist, and lovely person. This story's for you – I hope you like it._

_Love,_

_conception_

_Ps: Thanks to Lady Noir for her expert beta skills_

_-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --_

The sun was just breaking over the tops of the white-faced buildings that framed the open square, yet already the air was hot and heavy with moisture. Even in the early morning, the small market in the heart of Istanbul buzzed with activity. Crates of fruits and spices, long swaths of silken cloth hanging from a line, hand-crafted furniture, sticks of sweet-smelling incense – there was nothing that could not be found among the crowded stalls. Old women with crooked teeth proudly displayed their wares to all who passed by. Mingled cries of '_Günaydın!'_, and '_Onun fiati kaça?'_ swirled through the densely packed crowd of buyers and sellers.

At the far end, a young woman stood under the shelter of a colourful umbrella, carefully watching the hubbub with a remarkable self-possession, not at all intimidated by the noise and motion around her. No detail of the chaotic scene escaped her consideration. The bearded man who leaned against a fruit stall, spitting orange pips into the street; the skinny stray dog that lay in the shade beneath a table, perking up its head at passing vendors carrying crates of fish; the gaggle of laughing boys that wove expertly through the displays as they raced to catch each other – Her keen, intelligent eyes roved back and forth, taking it all in.

At last her eyes stilled, resting on a plump, well-dressed man who bent low over an attractive array of citrus fruits to sniff at the tangerines. He was obviously British – the first and most obvious giveaway. She flipped a swath of blonde hair out of her eyes and concentrated on the view from her lenses to find the second. Ah, there it was.

Though on all three planes the little man remained an affluent British magician, a swirl of pearlescent blue light danced around him, lighting up his droopy eyes and reflecting off his shiny bald forehead. It was a stark contrast to the dull, pulsating red colour that hung off the other, more human, faces in the crowd. In fact, she mused, the stranger's aura was far more akin to the glittering nebula of white that she could see clinging around her own hands like a halo. She grimaced and thanked her lucky stars that the spirit hadn't noticed her yet.

Well, best to act now while she had the element of surprise. Reflexively, she rested her hand against her chest, where she could feel the hard outline of the amulet beneath the cloth of her shirt. Time to move. She darted out from beneath the broad umbrella and wove her way towards him through the tight crowd, darting out of sight every time the portly man glanced upwards.

As she neared her target, she slipped the slender syringe from her pocket and popped off the cap in one smooth motion. The colourless liquid sloshed against the sides of the plastic tube. Silver nitrate – it wasn't the most straightforward method, but a shot of silver straight into an artery was far and above the fastest way to kill a hybrid spirit, and without the commotion and resulting collateral damage of head-to-head combat, too.

She prepared to plunge the tip of the needle home, when suddenly the spirit whirled around, batting the syringe from her hand and sending it skittering under a stack of wooden crates.

"I've been expecting you," the spirit grinned.

The woman ducked as a flabby fist swung overhead.

"If you knew I was coming," she answered, stumbling backwards into a pile of melons, "Then you must have heard the news about what happened to your friends in Paris."

"Oh yes," said the spirit as it leapt up on a table, and released a blast of sizzling orange light from its fingertips. "And Moscow too. But I'm afraid you won't find _me_ quite so easy to destroy."

Chaos broke out as the crowd screamed and scattered like ants, knocking over everything in their path in their desperation to escape. The woman sighed in disappointment as the burst of magic dissipated harmlessly around her. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to make a scene, but if this spirit was determined to do things the hard way…

She swept out an inferno stick and calmly spoke the operating command. The device gave a dull crackle and released a puff of putrid smoke. Apparently it hadn't held out against the magical attack as well as might be hoped – the piece of crap. The woman tossed it over her shoulder and faced her foe warily. All she now had to defend herself was the small silver knife in her back pocket. Practically unarmed against a spirit – this was not good. She was forced to dive to the side as her opponent chucked a wagon full of eggs in her direction, despite the angry protests of the farmer to whom it belonged.

She made a run for the spirit, leaping onto the table and drawing the tiny blade. It was ready for her; it caught her arm in mid-strike and twisted her hand painfully until she was forced to let the knife fall to the ground.

The spirit's teeth gleamed, his mouth open so wide that she could count every jagged wedge of enamel that protruded from the blood-red gums. What, was he going to bite her?

She grimaced in distaste, preparing to yank herself out of the hybrid's iron grip, when she felt something slam into her back. Suddenly she was stumbling, falling – spirit still attached to her arm – as she toppled off the table and landed with a heavy 'plop' into a cart piled with manure.

The spirit shrieked horribly as poisonous earth seeped into its essence. The woman was up in an instant, searching the ground on her hands and knees as the creature still writhed and moaned self-pityingly in the manure cart. She sucked in a steadying breath when the tips of her fingers finally brushed against the cool plastic syringe. Straightening, she strolled over to the struggling British imposter, firmly pushed the needle under the skin of his arm, and depressed the plunger. The spirit shuddered once and was still.

She watched its eyes fall shut, and breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Only once she was convinced it was dead did she allow herself to glare fiercely at the figure atop the table that had so kindly pushed her into a delightful pile of excrement.

She narrowed her eyes as a blonde man wearing gaudy purple glasses swept off his ridiculous fedora hat and shot her a winning smile.

"Katherine James, fancy meeting you here," he greeted.

God, how she hated the man. What was he doing here? She'd only found out about this hybrid through one of Harold's contacts – there was no way he could have known. She wondered, not for the first time, whether he was stalking her.

"Get out of here, _Indiana_," She growled the nickname resentfully – she hated that she still had no clue what the man's name actually was, and was forced to refer to him by his hat, of all things. "This one was mine."

"Really?" He cocked a skeptical eyebrow, "Then I suppose you laid down your weapons on purpose and decided to wrestle the creature on even terms. I see – how noble of you."

The woman clenched her fists. "I don't know who you're working for," she yelled, "But you can assure them, whoever they are, that I have the hybrid situation under control and I don't need help from the likes of you. Now stop following me around."

She turned her back on the smirking man and stomped away, feeling like an incompetent little kid instead of an accomplished demon hunter. Insufferable, that's what he was.

Strangers on the street stared fearfully at her as she strode back to the hotel in high dudgeon, pointing and whispering to each other in low voices. The woman ignored them; this wasn't the first time she'd made a mess, and she was getting rather used to the nervous glances and gossip that came with it.

"I have to stop making such a bloody spectacle of myself," she muttered, pushing open the hotel door.

"Good morning, Miss James," the woman behind the counter called, "A telegram came while you were away."

Ah, her next assignment. They certainly didn't give her much downtime, did they?

"Thank you," she said, receiving the crisp white envelope and trudging up to her room. Only once the door was tightly shut did she rip it open and read the contents.

_Kitty. New spirit spotted in Cologne Germany. Contact Hans Büller for information. Regards, Button._

Ah, what an economy of words. Harold had certainly spared no expense to contact her. Well, this would have to wait until she'd had a shower at the very least.

Moving to the bathroom, she tugged the enchanted ring from her finger and let the Glamour fade. The façade of Katherine James melted away to reveal short dark hair and a pointed face bearing an unusually intelligent expression. Deftly she popped out her contact lenses and blinked the dryness away before meeting her own eyes in the mirror.

She looked thinner than usual; no doubt a result of the high stress of her new occupation. She smelled like a pig farm too, and the streaks of filth that coated her cheeks were not helping her appearance, either. She scowled at her reflection, cursing that idiot Indiana under her breath. But beneath the inch-think layer of grime, she was still herself – Kathleen Jones: commoner, rebel, and lately, demon hunter.

She stepped under the showerhead and closed her eyes, letting rivulets of hot water run over her shoulders and back. The disguise was annoying and itched terribly, but with one of the most recognizable faces in Europe and anti-British sentiment being what it was in these post-colonial times, she couldn't afford to go without it.

It was all in the job. You might think these foreign governments would be happy to receive help tracking down the demon hybrids that had escaped across their borders, but no. Each and every one of the countries Kitty had visited was intensely independent and resented even the thought of outside help. She wasn't even allowed to enter the country, and thus Katherine James had been born – to clean up the mess that Britain had made of things.

Many demons had been killed the night of the Revolt, thanks to Nathaniel and Bartimaeus. Those who had escaped, however, had spread over the world, most returning to the countries they had served in back in ages past, leading Kitty on a wild, international goose chase to get rid of them.

At least, that was the plan.

Lately it seemed that at every turn, every lead, every killing blow, the irritating blond man with his silly glasses and stupid hat interfered and stole her thunder, lending his unwanted help with a smug smirk and sarcastic quip. France, Turkey, Thailand… it didn't matter where she went; he was always one step ahead.

As she dried off her hair and began to pack up her belongings, she ran the newest assignment over in her head. What kind of spirit would be interested in Cologne? She could vaguely recall that the city had been a major trade town and cultural centre under the Holy Roman Empire. Perhaps this was some sixteenth century spirit whose name had been uncovered in the court of Rudolf II.

Well, either way, she was about to find out. Leaving a generous tip for the maid on the side table, she hoisted her bag over her shoulder and headed out for the airport, praying that just this once, she had a lead that Indiana didn't.

The train from Düsseldorf was packed with friendly people who blithely chattered away to her in German, only to laugh at her bewildered expression and greet her in English. She smiled, nodded politely, and turned to watch the scenery pass by out her window. The city was coming into view, perched on the tree-lined banks of the river Rhine. She found she rather liked the atmosphere. Across the water, the imposing gothic peaks of Cologne cathedral rose above the skyline like a ship on the sea. It had taken over six hundred years to build the monstrous edifice, and the painstaking workmanship showed.

_Excessive_, contradicted the unimpressed voice in her head that she liked to refer to as her inner Bartimaeus. She wondered briefly if the ancient djinni had ever served here in Cologne. He couldn't exactly answer her questions anymore, but if he could, she highly suspected he'd tell her yes, whether he truly had or not. He would also have claimed to have built the Cathedral with his bare hands, no doubt. She smiled fondly and let out a long sigh as the train pulled to a stop.

The Cathedral was her current destination, and her city map assured her it was not far from the train station. Alighting from the passenger car, she resolved to walk the remaining distance by foot.

The air was warm, and the sun was shining. Bicycle tires hummed over the asphalt, their whispery song loaning a sense of life to the streets, and Kitty found herself whistling lightheartedly as she cracked open the heavy cathedral doors and entered the high-vaulted nave of the church, dragging her luggage behind her. Light streamed in through the coloured glass windows, giving the old building a sense of air and openness.

"Miss James?" A small bespectacled man rose up from the back pew to shake her hand.

"That's me," Kitty replied.

"I'm Hans Büller, the church's organist," the little man said eagerly. "We're so glad you're here. We heard you might be able to help us with our little spirit problem."

Kitty smiled amiably and sat down next to him.

"I promise I'll do what I can. Where is the spirit, exactly? My employer was a bit vague on the details."

The man's face fell. "Ah," he replied, scratching his head, "I'm afraid we don't quite know."

"There's no particular place where it tends to turn up? No favourite haunts?"

"Not that we know of."

Kitty frowned. "Well, where was it last seen?"

"Ah, there I can help you, ma'am," said Hans, perking up. "Maria?" he called, beckoning eagerly over his shoulder, "Come here!"

A young woman who had been inspecting the workmanship of the decorative windows wandered over, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear and offering Kitty her hand.

"You must be Katherine James," she said, "I've heard a lot about you."

Hans clapped the woman on the shoulder.

"Thus far, Maria here is the only person who's seen the creature."

Ah, a witness. Kitty pulled a notebook from her back pocket and got down to business. "How long ago?" she asked.

"About a week," the woman replied.

"Tell me about it."

"Well," Maria began, "A few weeks ago, around midnight, I was passing by and came in here to get out of the rain. The whole building was empty. When I wandered off into the transept, I heard an odd thump. Suddenly I noticed something floating towards me out of the shadows. It looked just like a man, but it was dressed in the strangest clothes and carried a burlap bag over its shoulder. I was terrified when it saw me, but it just winked and flew away. It passed right through the wall and disappeared!"

Hans nodded vigorously. "No one believed her at first, but all that changed the next morning, when we realized the shrine of The Three Kings had been plundered!"

Kitty's pen paused over the paper. "The Shrine of the Three Kings?"

"Why, the most important relics in Cologne, my dear! Surely you've heard of the three magi – powerful magicians from Persia who brought gifts to the infant Christ? Their remains were entombed in a golden sarcophagus and kept here in Cologne Cathedral for the past seven hundred years. The morning after the spirit broke in, the caretaker came down only to find that the sarcophagus was open and the relics were gone!"

Kitty tapped her chin thoughtfully. "What would a spirit want with a bunch of old relics?" she wondered.

Hans shrugged helplessly.

"I can think of an explanation," Maria met Kitty's questioning gaze with keen green eyes. "Like most powerful magicians, the magi's bones were protected by high-level spirits under Indefinite Confinement. Perhaps this spirit was trying to break them free?"

"And gather allies?" Kitty mused out loud. This did not sound good. What if Cologne was on the verge of a massive spirit rebellion like the one that had happened in London? She flipped the notebook shut and rose from the pew. "It sounds like we might have a dire situation on our hands. Thank you both for your help, I think I can take it from here."

Hans smiled. "Thanks and good luck. Please, when you capture the spirit, make sure you get it to return the relics before you get rid of it. They are extremely important pieces of this building's history. I'm sure between the two of you you'll manage to figure it out."

Kitty froze. "Two of us?" she said carefully.

"Yes, wasn't that young man who came to see us earlier with you? An odd looking chap. Blonde? Funny hat?"

"No," Kitty replied through gritted teeth, "No he wasn't."

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Later that night, Kitty lay in a vinyl sleeping bag on the unyielding floor of the Cathedral's northern ambulatory, completely and utterly steamed. She grumbled irritably under her breath as she squirmed in a fruitless search for a comfortable position. How did she get in this situation again?

Ah yes, she'd been riled to hear that the condescending little upstart was once again infringing on her territory. There was no way she was going to let him find those relics first. Her only leads had been the original sighting, and the creature's apparent interest in the entities trapped within ancient artifacts – both of which were present in the cathedral. This of course, had lead to a stakeout and her current unenviable situation. What a surprise – Indiana was once again the source of her troubles.

So here she was, lying on the floor beneath her itchy Glamour with a jumble of silver weaponry stuffed up her pillowcase, hoping against hope that lightning would strike in the same place twice.

The irritation seeped away to be replaced by pure adrenaline when a sudden crash broke the stillness. Kitty bolted upright and snatched up a long knife, tiptoeing barefooted towards the choir stall where a lean shadowy figure wrestled with a line of candelabras that threatened to tip over onto each other, domino-style.

It didn't even catch a whiff of her approach before Kitty had swept its feet out from under it, tackled it to the ground and was pressing the knife to its throat with the syringe of silver nitrate poised above an artery.

"You're not about to poke me with that are you?" asked a familiar voice.

Kitty blinked, realizing just who it was under the blade of her knife.

"Indiana," she felt the heat rise to her face.

"You might want to take a second look before you go stabbing at things."

The man's glasses were askew and his hat had been knocked off in the scuffle. Kitty allowed a small bubble of satisfaction at his dishevelment to temporarily displace her humiliation.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Indiana ignored her; his gaze instead fell to the amulet around her neck. It had dislodged itself from its normal position tucked beneath her shirt and now swung free. Kitty eyed him warily as the man's expression flickered oddly and one hand came up as if to trace the smooth jade stone in the centre.

"Ah, the amulet of Samarkand, am I right?" The wandering hand gave a violent jerk and snapped the chain that suspended it from Kitty's neck.

"What are you doing?" Kitty cried, trying to snatch the treasure back. The man held it firmly in his clenched fist. "Hand that over right now!"

The man smirked. It made her ball up her fists as the desire to punch him surged through her veins. "Calm down a moment," he said, "This spirit we're tracking–"

"_I_ am tracking!"

"Absolutely. As I was saying, this spirit we're tracking is obviously attracted to objects of power for some unimaginable reason, and seeing as you've brought the perfect bait, it would be a pity to waste it, don't you think?"

"I…oh."

Kitty hadn't thought about setting a trap for the hybrid spirit, but now that Indiana mentioned it, it made perfect sense. The amulet, she knew, contained several extremely potent spirits, and if the hybrid was after what she thought it was after, there was no way it could pass it up.

"Fine," she grumbled, "Do what you want. But it better be in one piece when I get it back!"

She paused expectantly.

"Erm, do you think you could let me up?" Indiana asked innocuously.

Ah right – she still had him pinned to the ground. Cursing her flushed face for being so damn incriminating, she hurriedly rose to her feet.

The man gathered up his hat and placed the amulet on a cloth-covered table adorned with half-melted candles. He held out a finger, and a small arc of magic streamed out towards the golden object, bathing it in a halo of lingering blue light. What exactly was that? She hadn't seen him command a spirit. Kitty pressed her lips together to prevent her curiosity from voicing questions. Let the man do what he wanted – she didn't care one way or another.

"A Security spell," he offered anyways, "An alarm will sound if anyone touches the amulet. Now we just find somewhere to hide, and once the alarm goes off we just run out and apprehend the spirit."

It seemed simple enough.

Simple plans rarely worked out as hoped.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The darkness was oppressive, the silence deafening. Kitty shifted uneasily, her legs cramping up under the strain of her awkward position beneath a table. Half-an-hour had passed, and still no sight of the hybrid. Kitty couldn't help stealing awkward glances at the lanky blonde man crouching beside her. He'd somehow managed to weasel his way into her plans and now there'd be no getting rid of him.

"So," Kitty whispered, breaking the silence, "How'd you find out about this spirit anyways? I have it on good authority that it was _me_ they contacted to take care of it. The guy who hired me seemed to be under the impression that you were working with me. Now why would he think that?"

Indiana shrugged. "Hey, I never tell my secrets!"

"Come on," She poked him insistently in the shoulder, "Admit it! You've been following me!"

He glanced askance at her and smiled to himself. "Not at all."

Kitty glared. "Oh yes you are!"

"If I said I was, would that be so bad? You seem to constantly require an alarming amount of help."

"I assure you," she cried huffily, "I do not!"

"_Shhh_. Is that so? If I hadn't showed up, how exactly were you planning on luring the hybrid here? As I recall, you were hanging around just hoping it would stumble across your path."

"Oh yeah? _I'm_ the one who provided the amulet!"

The man's eyes gleamed and Kitty scrabbled back as he leaned in towards her. "Ah yes," he said, "And how exactly _did_ you get that, Katherine? If I remember correctly, the Amulet of Samarkand is the property of –"

His sentence was mercifully cut off by an insistent wailing noise. Indiana jumped up and offered Kitty his hand.

"That's the alarm. Let's go."

Kitty's heart beat wildly as she raced after him, syringe in hand.

Her blood buzzed in her head as she rounded the bend and there it was.

A tall, lean figure leaned over the display of candles, the amulet dangling daintily from its fingers. It turned lazily at the sound of their approach, and Kitty blinked and rubbed her eyes. The creature looked like no hybrid she had ever seen.

It was terribly gaunt; its cheekbones protruded beneath the skin and gave it a sunken, cadaverous look. It sported a pair of drooping blonde mustachios, set beneath a large triangular nose and a set of sharp black eyes. Unpleasant, but normal enough. What really set the spirit apart was the bazaar manner in which it was dressed.

It had adorned itself with an old-fashioned doublet of blue brocade and a pair of bright green hose – the kind worn by musketeers or perhaps the lords of the Tudor court. Perched upon its head was a hat of very enigmatic construction – all brims and rolls, with a thick red strap clamping it to its head and tying beneath its chin.

The spirit blinked at them in surprise, then slipped the trinket around his neck and gave a little bow.

"Good evening," he said, "I wasn't expecting visitors tonight."

Kitty brandished her knife emphatically. "An oversight on your part, I'm sure. The people of Cologne aren't too pleased with you, haunting their lovely building here and stealing their treasures. That's why I've – uh, _we've_ been called in. I'm afraid this is the end of the line for you my friend."

The odd man stroked his mustache. "Oh dear. Here I assumed this was meant as an appeasement offering of some sort. A thank you, if you will, for not destroying that nice girl who saw me the other day." He stretched and cracked his knuckles. "Ah, well, if it's a fight you're looking for…"

Kitty clutched her weapon tighter. "Return the relics you stole, and we might consider letting you live," she declared.

"Such pretty words, but can you back them up?" The spirit's eyes gleamed as it stepped towards Kitty.

All throughout this pleasant conversation, Indiana had been circling around behind the creature, up the steps to the raised platform where mass was held. As it started towards Kitty, he leapt at the hybrid from behind and drove it face-first into the floor. Kitty ran up quickly, syringe at the ready, but too late. The creature shook the man off easily, like a dog shaking water from its coat, and was on its feet again in an instant.

"Oh ho! So there's two of you!" the hybrid chuckled, magic crackling from the tips of its fingers. It swung around, releasing a vibrant Concussion, and a shockwave of compact air blew Kitty back ten meters. The knife flew from her hand as her head struck the flagstones.

"Ouch, that must have hurt." The hybrid flashed a toothy grin and bent to snatch the long curved knife from the floor by Kitty's feet. Its thin fingers curled easily around the silver grip. Why wasn't it burning him? In another instant, it had darted away, and had the weapon leveled at Indiana's throat.

"Oh, I know what you are," It said, laughing almost coquettishly, "You wouldn't fancy this between your ribs, now would you?" Indiana rolled out of the way as it swung the knife through the air. He grabbed the nearest candelabra and brandished it like a staff, the harsh clash of metal rending the air as he fended off the hybrid's frenzied strokes.

"Is that so?" The man panted, "What a coincidence. As it happens I'm beginning to understand what _you_ might be, as well."

Kitty tottered uncertainly to her feet, just as the hybrid managed to flip Indiana unceremoniously over its head. The man reached out a hand and snagged the amulet from the creature's neck as he went, landing flat on his back with a dull thud at Kitty's feet.

Kitty bent low and dragged him to his feet. "We have to get out of here," she whispered. "I don't know what it is about this hybrid, but it's absolutely _trouncing_ us."

"That's no hybrid," Indiana replied.

Kitty's vision jolted as said not-hybrid suddenly wrapped its fingers around her neck and leapt to the other side of the room, jerking her roughly.

"Well, this has been fun," the creature declared, tightening its grip on her throat and flicking out the knife to rest under her chin, "But now it's time for you to go."

Kitty winced at the tickle of cold metal upon her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, every muscle in her body clenched. Suddenly, blinding green light seared through her eyelids, crackling around her in a flurry of static energy. Her eyes flew open as the hybrid cried out in pain, releasing her to rub away at its seared skin. She glanced in bewilderment over her shoulder to where Indiana stood, smoke still curling from the tips of his fingers. It took only a moment for Kitty to recover; she tugged the knife from the distracted hybrid's loose grasp. Now was her opportunity.

Before she could get in a single strike, a blur of motion whipped towards her, snatched her hand, and dragged her across the floor towards the exit, just as the hybrid roused itself.

"How did you do that?" Kitty panted, but Indiana didn't answer.

Kitty could feel the reverberations through the building as the hybrid pounded across the floor, gaining on them with incredible speed. Indiana skittered to a stop as it approached and let fly a series of multicoloured blasts of magic before Kitty's disbelieving eyes. The creature howled as the sizzling balls of light struck home.

"Hang on tight," the man told her as he wrapped his arms around Kitty's waist. A crawling feeling inched over Kitty's skin at his touch. Cold horror seeped through her as the realization washed over her.

Indiana was a demon.

There was a sudden lurch as Indiana launched them into the air, and they were flying (_flying_!) at top speed, straight for the lovingly adorned stained-glass window. Kitty screwed her eyes shut, more in regret for the damaged artwork then in anticipation of impact as they burst through in an explosion of red and indigo fragments.

Finally, they were on the ground again in the square outside the cathedral, and Indiana was dragging her over the rectangular grey paving stones.

"Hold up," she gasped, dragging her feet, "Hold up, just _wait_!" she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and whipped around to face him.

"What _are_ you?" she yelled, "Don't bother answering. I _know_. You're one of _them_!"

Indiana gave her a concerned look. "Listen, I –"

"Shut up!" she cried frantically, not caring how juvenile she sounded, "I wondered why you'd been following me all this time. What were you doing? Biding your time, waiting until just the right moment to turn on me? Or maybe you thought you could use me to get to Button, hmm? Put an end to the hybrid search?"

"Now why would I –"

"I don't want to hear it! I know what I saw!"

Indiana moved towards her, his expression placating. "Yes, alright – perhaps I'm a spirit. But it takes one to catch one doesn't it?"

"Get back!" she yelled, spooked by his approach. She held up the silver knife and glared wildly at him.

"Listen," He raised is palms in a soothing gesture, and reached out for her shoulder.

"I _said_ get _back_!" In a moment of blind panic, she danced away from his grasp and stabbed at him with the silver blade.

Indiana's eyes widened as though he hadn't expected her to actually use it. His hands rose up to ward off the blow. With a sizzle of boiling essence, the knife pierced through his palm and sank deep into the plaster of the building behind him.

Kitty stumbled back wide-eyed as the spirit glanced in silent surprise between her and his dripping palm. His other hand reached up to pull the knife from where it was lodged, but he paused and pulled away, unable to force himself to endure the metal's painful aura.

There was a crash from above, and Kitty awoke from her stunned stupor as the hybrid, or whatever it was, hurdled through a widow and plummeted towards them.

With a single glance back over her shoulder, Kitty ran, stumbling over her own feet as Indiana's voice called out behind her.

"Come back! Hang on a sec and listen, won't you? Katherine!"

She kept running, rounding the bend and falling – panting – to her knees on the sidewalk.

"Ki –" Indiana's distant voice was abruptly cut off.

Kitty collapsed against the wall of the building behind her, the bricks rough against her back. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly through her nose before pushing herself to her feet and peeking out around the corner.

The courtyard was empty. Indiana, the hybrid – everything was gone.

The tips of her fingers dug into the coarse surface of the wall as a wash of guilt rushed through her. She'd just gotten him killed.

Every moment she'd shared with the strange young man lingered very clearly before her eyes. From the fist time she'd laid eyes on him as they'd raced up the steps of the Eiffel tower in pursuit of the hybrid that had taken over Ms. Malbindi's body, to the most recent incident in the Istanbul market. Even that horribly embarrassing incident in Boston that she'd tried so hard to forget fluttered persistently through her brain. Sure he'd made her want to scream on occasion, but he'd never tried to harm her. He'd saved her life back there in the cathedral, though she'd been far to upset about her sudden discovery to let it register. If they were on separate sides of this battle, then why was she feeling like a traitor?

_What do you expect me to do? _She asked her rebellious conscience, _It's far too late._

The knots in her gut only tightened in response. She wiped the hair from her forehead and groaned. Was she really going to do this? This was suicide she was considering, pure and simple. There was no way Indiana was still alive.

And yet she had to try.

Slowly, reluctantly, Kitty made her way back to the cathedral.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Cologne Cathedral was utterly deserted. Kitty's footsteps echoed quietly in the empty space as her eyes roved restlessly over every surface. There was no sign of where the hybrid had gone. Something crunched mournfully underfoot, and Kitty sighed as she realized she'd crushed one of the shards of coloured glass that now littered the floor. Büller was going to kill her when he found out what she'd done to his beloved church.

_Büller_. Kitty frowned and raked back through her memories, trying to recall every bit of information her employers had given her on the hybrid.

Something, a little snippet of conversation, surfaced. It was a long shot, but Kitty remembered they had witnessed the creature pass through one of the transept walls. Her footsteps quickened.

There was no sign of the creature here, either. Kitty examined her surroundings carefully. The walls soared above her, opening up into ornate arched windows and gathering gracefully into the ribbed vaults overhead.

A worn grey statue sat in the corner, hidden by the more showy pieces that had held up better against the years. Who knew who it had once represented – some saint no doubt. It bore the rough approximation of a lantern in one hand; the other fell to its side at a crooked angle.

Kitty's brow furrowed. Her hand wandered out almost of its own accord, to press against the crooked arm. With a dim clink, the cool stone snapped back in position. There was a dull grinding noise, like spinning cogs, and a panel of flat, carved stone swung open from the wall, revealing the top steps of a tiny staircase that spiraled down into darkness.

Kitty hesitated. What would she find at the bottom? The hybrid's lair? Would she find it sleeping in a nest of human bones deep beneath the cathedral? She shook her head to clear it. Whatever was there, she'd be discovering it shortly.

She gripped the syringe – her last remaining weapon now – and started the descent.

The door swung shut behind her, encasing her in utter darkness. Gripping the walls to keep from falling, Kitty counted each step down into the earth. One, two, three… onwards she went. Fifteen, sixteen…deeper still. At last, thirty-six steps later, the ground leveled out, and she found herself in a long narrow passage, lit by a single candle set into a ledge in the wall.

She crept forwards carefully, her lungs choking on the thick, stale air. At first, the ceiling was so low it nearly brushed the top of her head. Gradually as she walked on, the corridor widened and the ceiling rose higher. At last air moved freely within the passage, delivering oxygen to her starved lungs.

Finally, a low archway marked the end of the hall, and a warm light glowed in the room beyond. Kitty ducked inside, blinking in confusion at the sight that met her eyes.

She could barely begin to take in the diverse assortment of clutter before her. Piles of ancient, moldy books were stacked to the ceiling and littered across every surface. _On Transmutation_, read one title, while _De Occulta Philosophia_ was printed neatly on the next. Faded Persian rugs lay haphazardly across the dirt floor, covered with small piles of gold and silver artifacts, and a worn wooden mantelpiece sat above a very sooty fireplace.

On an ancient desk against the wall sat a collection of filthy glass beakers and a flask of bubbling fluid upon a retort stand. Kitty paused at a crooked portrait that hung on the wall above the desk. A little less gaunt and sunken, perhaps, but the imperious figure depicted was surely the hybrid she sought. Painted in dark oil pigments characteristic of a time gone by, it stared out sullenly from the golden frame. Where on Earth had this painting come from? Cut deep into the frame were the words _Der Alchimist_, in large, blockish letters.

Several more doorways opened up beyond the room, and from the rightmost one came the merry clink of pots and pans. On the far side, from behind a tapestry depicting the court of Rudolf II, the dull buzz of magic reverberated through the first three planes. Kitty paused, uncertain which to try first. At last she hid herself behind the doorpost of the first room and peeked inside.

There it was. The hybrid stood in its ancient clothes, back turned towards her. A large copper pot sat on the table before it, into which it was slicing long slivers of onion as it hummed cheerfully to itself. As the last of the vegetable dropped into the pot, the creature bent down and set the wood beneath aflame with a bright blue inferno.

Kitty was sidetracked a moment. She stared in confusion as the figure stirred the concoction with a wooden spoon. Spirits never ate – at least, not anything that wasn't still alive. Yet there it was, tasting its soup and cackling in delight. Indiana was right about one thing. This was not your average hybrid.

She crept onwards, leaving the creature to its meal. Careful not to step on any of the bits of jewelry that littered the floor, Kitty crossed the room to where the tapestry hung against the wall. This was it. If Indiana wasn't here, then he was dead.

The room beyond was wreathed in shadow, lit only by a faint electric green glow. As her eyes adjusted, the source of this odd light became clear. A large, egg-shaped dome rose from a pedestal in the centre of the bare floor, flickering dimly with an unearthly radiance. Her pulse thudded through her veins as she made out the dark silhouette in the midst of the swirling light.

"Indiana?" she whispered, approaching the crackling surface of the dome.

The man's eyes widened in surprise behind the thick plastic frames of his glasses. "What…how did you get in here?" He asked.

Kitty shifted awkwardly. "I…came back. Snuck in down the secret staircase." She took a deep breath. "Look, Indiana, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"What? When you left me for dead?"

Kitty winced. "How's your hand?"

"It's just lovely," the spirit replied dryly. Kitty bit her lip and stared forlornly at the ground.

Indiana suddenly grinned.

"Bah, its fine Katherine. Barely felt it in fact."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, sure. Like acupuncture. Good for your chi and all that."

Kitty rolled her eyes. She didn't believe him for a second, but she couldn't stop a small smirk from dancing over her lips.

"Oh come on, let's get you out of here," she said, reaching out for the strange confining dome. Its aura was hot upon her palm.

"Hey, hey – wait! Stop that!" Indiana gestured frantically.

Kitty pulled her hand away mere inches from the surface and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Don't touch that if you like your hand the way it is," Indiana explained. "I've seen this kind of set up before. It's a Mournful Orb, nothing passes through it."

Kitty nodded. "Alright, then how do I turn it off?"

"Silver or iron. Got any on you?"

She held up the syringe in her hand, exposing the syringe of silver nitrate to Indiana's scrutiny. Suddenly it was looking fairly pathetic to her eyes, with its little plastic plunger and short steel needle.

"Beggars can't be choosers I suppose," the man behind the dome said doubtfully, "Squeeze a couple drops onto the orb and we'll see if I can get out."

To her pleasant surprise, the egg-shaped field flickered wildly as the drop of clear liquid made contact with the surface, and quick as a flash, a tiny blur sped past her ear before the orb reconstituted itself with a burst of green light.

Behind her, Indiana readjusted his hat.

"Tight squeeze," he commented.

Kitty reined in the bizarre impulse to hug him, and instead pushed back the tapestry and waved him through.

"Where is it?" Indiana whispered, eyes darting around the crowded room.

Kitty shrugged. "Eating dinner. Yes, I know – _dinner_! What kind of spirit is he?"

The man beside her shook his head. "He's not a spirit at all. Sure, he's got enough of an aura to pass as one, but then again so do you." He eyed her narrowly.

Kitty squirmed. "How can you be sure?" she asked.

"It's not just the food," he replied. "Did you see how it grabbed your knife earlier? Totally immune to silver. Nope – that thing is a one-hundred percent bona fide human."

"No way! Didn't you see him shooting Detonations out his fingers?"

Indiana waved a hand. "Inconsequential details. He's managed to harness the spirit's powers for himself, I'll wager. I wouldn't put it past his abilities. After all, he is one of the greatest magicians and alchemists of all time."

Kitty's eyebrows shot up. "He's _what_? How would you even know that?"

"I've been around," he replied, gesturing vaguely. "I spent a few years in Cologne back in the sixteen hundreds. I certainly know Cornelius Agrippa when I see him."

"Who?"

"Cornelius Agrippa. One of the great minds of the Renaissance period. Magician, astrologer, alchemist – He even wrote one of those old tomes magicians like to study so much. I'd heard he'd disappeared without a trace in Grenoble, France, but it looks like he hoofed it back to his old hometown some time since then."

"The Renaissance?" Kitty repeated, "Then how could he still be alive now?"

"Just think about it. What was the primary goal of alchemy?"

Kitty furrowed her brow. "I have no idea. Do I look like an alchemist?"

Indiana waved a finger pedantically in the air. "Eternal life. Well, that and turning lead into gold. They always were a greedy lot, those alchemists. Who's to say this fellow couldn't have achieved his goal?"

"But, that's impossible…"

"Impossible or not, we're clearly no match for him. Let's get out of here, shall we?" He grabbed her hand and made for the doorway, but Kitty hesitated.

"Hang on," she said, "We still have to get the relics back. I promised."

Indiana sighed. "Do we have to?"

Kitty crossed her arms. "Yes."

A search through the cluttered room commenced. Kitty scoured every nook and cranny, in the cabinets, in the drawers, under the old worn rugs, through a great burlap sack filled with teabags. At last Indiana caught her arm and pointed up to a large wooden box at the top of a shelf, perched precariously next to a jar of glass eyes.

"Try that," Indiana said, "It's got the strongest magical signature of anything in the room."

Kitty's heart beat in anticipation. It looked about the right size. She dragged an old scarlet armchair to the foot of the shelf and climbed up. Her arms reached for the box – it was heavier than she expected, and its aura prickled at her face.

That was when everything went wrong. The leg of the old abused chair gave out with a snap, sending Kitty toppling. Her elbow flew out, catching at the heavy glass jar and knocking it from its perch. There was a resounding crash as hundreds of glass fragments shattered across the floor, mingled with the clatter of the entire collection of emancipated glass eyes bouncing merrily in every direction.

"What's all this ruckus?" The hair on Kitty's arms prickled as Agrippa appeared in the doorway, a long white apron tied over his tunic and hose.

Immediately, he spied Indiana standing in the midst of the glass rubble. "Oh ho! How did you get out?"

Kitty hung back, shielded from the alchemist's view by the body of the fallen armchair. She peeked out from between the slender wooden legs, catching sight of Indiana dancing away as Agrippa grabbed out at him.

Glancing around for a weapon, Kitty snatched up a long iron poker that lay half-buried in the ash of the fireplace.

A bright flash lit the room as Indiana sent a Detonation spiraling towards the man, only for it to be drained away into the round green stone in the amulet around his neck.

"That's not very nice," Agrippa said. He stretched out his arm, and magic crackled from his fingertips.

Now was her chance. Kitty leapt forward, raising the poker above her head and bringing it down with as much force as she could muster.

The iron rod only travelled about halfway down its arc before halting mysteriously. It took a moment for Kitty to realize that Agrippa had caught it mid-swing, and was now staring at her with interest.

"What have we here?" he said, prying the poker from her clenched hands.

Kitty tightened her grip, but with a mighty tug the man wrenched it from her grasp, scraping her hands and flinging the ring on her finger into the air.

Kitty stared as the little gold ring clattered upon the floor, and the room went oddly still. The constant ticklish feeling on her skin faded away, and Kitty's hand automatically rose up to touch her face – now suddenly bereft of its Glamour. Short locks of dark hair framed her vision, and she could see her own pale, pointed face and staring eyes reflected over and over in the shards of glass that littered the floor.

Slowly, apprehensively, her gaze drifted over to Indiana. As she met his shocked, disbelieving eyes, a whistling sound sung out above her.

Everything sank into darkness as Agrippa brought the poker down upon her head and she collapsed to the floor.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

When Kitty awoke, it was to the pale glow of the mournful orb, and the close, hovering face of Indiana.

They had been captured. Wonderful.

Her eyelids felt heavy as she took in the tiny prison. The buzzing globe around them was clearly the same orb she had rescued Indiana from only moments ago, and suddenly here they were, right back where they had started – only now she was out of silver. She sat up slowly, clutching her forehead.

"Ugh, I feel awful," she complained. Indiana continued to stare at her, an enigmatic smile dancing over his lips.

Kitty returned his stare for a bewildered moment, before her thoughts righted themselves and clarity returned. Her eyes widened in alarm. Her disguise was now broken! She raised her hands to her face, half-hiding behind her fingers.

"Look," she said hurriedly, "I know what you're thinking…"

"Kitty Jones," the spirit interrupted, smirking and shaking his head. "Of course it's you. I might have known."

Before she had the chance to question the meaning of this opaque statement, the familiar façade of Indiana, hair and hat and glasses, melted away like august snow and a different face entirely took its place.

The fair skin darkened to a warm coffee colour, the blonde hair beneath the audacious hat settled into waves of black. The eyes, however, remained exactly the same, dark and sparking with mischief.

Kitty choked on her own breath.

"Bartimaeus?"

A grinning nod of the head.

"_Bartimaeus??_"

Her muscles locked up with indecision; she was at once torn between the desire to throw her arms around him and the equally strong impulse to punch his lights out. Eventually she settled for both.

Bartimaeus returned her hug while gingerly rubbing his new black eye with the other hand.

"Nice to see you too, Kitty."

"It was you! I should have known it was you," Her voice was weak in her ears, "Who else could be such an ass?"

"Well, when you put it that way –"

"You knew! You knew, didn't you! That's why you were always following me around. You were trying to keep an eye on me!"

"Well, actually –"

"You did! You let me believe you were dead!" Kitty's voice was growing shriller by the second, but she was powerless to control her ire.

"Listen, I didn't –"

She leaned in close, poking him angrily in the chest. "I can't believe you! When were you planning on telling me, huh? You figured you could just –"

She got no further; the djinni had closed the small distance between them, and her mouth was now far too preoccupied with being thoroughly kissed to say anything more on the matter.

Her mind blacked out for a moment, the world tilted on its axis, the floor seemed to wobble beneath her feet. Her senses left her, time stopped, her skin prickled and burned–

"Ahem, I hate to interrupt," Agrippa called from the doorway, sending the flushed pair darting for opposite sides of the prison, "But I'd like to chat, if you don't mind."

"Oh, no, that's… go ahead," stammered Kitty, glancing nervously at Bartimaeus.

"Thank you, that's very kind. Now tell me," the strange man waggled his index finger at her, "What am I supposed to do with you, hmm?"

"I'm sorry?" The man's words skulked incomprehensively through her distracted, oxygen-deprived brain.

Agrippa wandered farther into the room. "You're clearly just an ordinary person, no matter how many pretty lights you've got swirling around you. What am I supposed to do with that, eh? If I killed you it'd be so messy, but I can't keep you here – I've only go so much storage space, and I certainly can't use you, so what am I suppose to do?"

"You could…let us go?" Kitty replied.

The man tutted. "Bah! How can I do that when you're trying to kill me? _This is the end of the line for you,_ that's what you said, I believe."

Kitty straightened, strengthened by new hope. She might still able to talk her way out this one. "I was laboring under a misconception," she said steadily, "I thought you were a hybrid – a human body controlled by a spirit. Destroying hybrids is my job. If you'd just return the relics of the three magic to the cathedral and let us go, you'd never hear from us again, I promise."

Agrippa's face twitched thoughtfully and he waggled his head up and down. "Yes, yes. That's probably best – to let you go. No 'us' about it though, I'm afraid. I can't release your djinni friend, and I'm certainly not returning those delicious relics."

Kitty's eyes widened. "But you have to! What could you possibly want with him?"

"Take what you can get," Bartimaeus murmured, "I'll be fine here."

"Probably not!" Agrippa said with a delighted laugh. "Though it's good of you to try to save the lady. You ought to take his advice, miss."

Kitty frowned. "Why do you need him?"

"For the exact same reason I need the relics, my dear! Those old bones contain several highly powerful spirits, just brimming with the energies of the Other Place. If I let them go, how would I extract their power?" He leaned forward conversationally. "Do you know the ultimate aim of alchemy?"

"Eternal life," Kitty whispered, realization washing over her.

"Quite so, quite so. I – and I _alone_, mark you – have finally managed to achieve that goal. Spirits you see, they live forever. Hundreds of years ago, I at last managed to perfect a method of absorbing the energy of the beings of the Other Place into myself. You can see the results here before you. I'm quite alive, and the process has the added benefit of conveying the demons' other powers to me as well." He let a little spark fly up from the palm of his hand in demonstration. "The only hitch is that I have to keep finding more djinn to add to myself. Not an easy task in these peaceful days, with so few magicians about."

"So you turned to looting relics," said Kitty.

"Indeed. The spirits inside are sitting ducks. Can't do anything to stop the process – and they're usually more powerful then your average run-of-the-mill spirits magicians summon these days. You're the most powerful thing I've seen around here in a long while, my good sir."

"Flattered," Bartimaeus replied wryly.

Kitty grabbed his arm and clutched it to her chest, as though certain the djinni would float off any minute. "I don't care about the relics," Kitty said, "But I'm _not _leaving Bartimaeus here. You have the Relics of the Three Kings. You have the Amulet of Samarkand. You don't need him."

Agrippa scratched his head. "Yes, yes, I do have them, and it's true they're very powerful, but what happens when I've exhausted their magic? I'll have to move on to smaller fish, and your friend here will save me the trouble of running out to find more magical artifacts – they don't grow on trees you know."

"Please," Kitty pleaded, "Leave him alone. We can find you other sources of magic. God, I'll bring you a constant supply of high-level spirits if that's what it takes."

Agrippa squinted at her doubtfully. "How will you manage that? You're hardly the kind of powerful magician that could summon up a horde of marids at will."

"I'll – I'll find a way! I could… the hybrids!" her voice rose in excitement. "We have to get rid of them some way or another. They're all very powerful, and a menace to humans. I could bring you the ones I capture. Please!"

"Well… they are very powerful you say?"

"Yes!"

Agrippa tapped his chin. Kitty's nails dug into Bartimaeus' arm as she gripped him tighter, her heart drumming against her ribcage.

At last, the man reached over and tapped the base of the pedestal, murmuring a command. The bright walls of the orb flickered out of sight.

"Alright then," Agrippa said as Kitty stared, almost unable to believe they were free to go, "I'll expect my first shipment in two weeks. Here, and take the relics with you."

He strode into the other room, leaving Kitty and Bartimaeus gaping at each other as they stood on the platform.

"Well, that was a fine piece of bargaining," Bartimaeus said at last.

Kitty sighed. "I can't believe he agreed. It's not going to be easy; carting all those dangerous spirits back to Cologne every few weeks."

"That's not so bad. It's a nice town, and you'll have plenty of help from _moi_."

Kitty suddenly realized she was still grasping his arm, but she didn't let go.

"Oh, so you plan on following me around again, huh?"

The djinni crossed his arms, "Why not? You seem to require some looking after."

"_I_ saved _you_ here buddy," Kitty replied in a disgruntled tone. She eyed him curiously. "So who have you been working for all this time, anyway?"

"The French," Bartimaeus replied offhandedly.

"Huh. And you refuse to leave me alone? Well, I suppose that could be a more agreeable situation than I gave credit for at first." She leaned closer, with half a mind to steal another kiss.

At that moment, Agrippa wandered back into the room, bearing the large wooden box in his arms.

"Here, you can take this with you," he said, shoving it into Bartimaeus' arms. "But make sure you hold up your end of the bargain, or I'll just steal them back again."

"T-Thank you," Kitty stammered.

Bartimaeus cracked open the lid of the box, his eyes alive with curiosity. He stared in a moment, then paled dramatically and slammed the lid shut, nearly dropping the box in the process.

"So _that's_ what relics are," he said, slightly green.

"Bit morbid, isn't it?" Agrippa replied. "Now off with you before I change my mind."

Bartimaeus and Kitty were only too happy to comply.

As the pair ascended the steps towards the light of the cathedral above, a secretive smile broke out over Kitty's face.

"What are you smirking at?" Bartimaeus asked as he lugged the heavy box up the stairs. Kitty's grin only widened.

"I hope you realize," she replied, "That you now owe me your life. And I know _just_ how you can repay me."

The djinni quirked an eyebrow in surprise before replying.

"Yes ma'am!"


End file.
